


Not Obsessive, Just Appreciative

by Keraha



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-05
Updated: 2009-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-05 06:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/38875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keraha/pseuds/Keraha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted at collarkink in response to the prompt, "Neal has sensitive nipples, Peter drives him insane by playing with them and makes him come with mostly just that."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Obsessive, Just Appreciative

  
Peter is not really a nipple man, himself. He really only learned to appreciate them after the third or fourth time he and Elizabeth slept together. He had mouthed at the line of her jaw, and she had made a delicious noise. He had licked a path down her neck, her collarbone, and had finally settled on the lush curves of her breasts. She was more sensitive than he could have imagined, and each sigh and gasp raised in him a mirrored pleasure. He felt lightheaded, drunk on her enjoyment. The entire experience had made an indelible mark on their sex life. Elizabeth had teased him, a few weeks into their relationship, for being obsessed, but he had only nuzzled her breasts and said that it was her fault for being so beautiful.

Now, with Neal spread beneath him, he's starting to get that same feeling. He is straddling Neal's thighs, hot beneath his own, and he feels an overwhelming urge to break Neal down, to just peel away each neat layer until all that's left is Neal, bare beneath him.

But, in the mean time, Neal is smirking, flashing brilliant white teeth and angling his head in that precise, damnable way. He is only in his boxer briefs, but miles away from naked. "Enjoying the view?"

"I thought you knew me well enough to know the answer," Peter says, watching goosebumps rise on Neal's skin, see the way his nipples were pebbling.

"Doesn't mean I don't want to hear it." He stretches, arching his back, and knowing that it's a deliberate move doesn't make it any less seductive.

"You know I'm not good with the words," Peter says. "How about this?" He'd feel corny using the line, but there is something about Neal that makes it all okay. He leans in, hands braced above Neal's shoulders, and brushes his lips against Neal's. He tastes like chapstick, vague hints of peppermint, and Peter laughs a little bit.

"Mm?"

"Elizabeth uses the same chapstick," he says.

"I should hope so, considering I used hers." Neal's eyes are at half mast, and his smile is slow, lazy. "Didn't want you to feel too out of your depth."

"Considerate." Peter licks Neal's bottom lip, can taste that bit of familiarity. She's always worn that same brand, the same flavor, and it sends a little spike of arousal through him. She wouldn't have left it on the nightstand if she didn't know how much Peter liked it. And how much Peter liked Neal.

He smiles into Neal's mouth and shifts so he can run a hand down Neal's side. Neal is streamlined, completely lacking Elizabeth's curves, and he can't help but track the differences. Neal's body is defined where Elizabeth has curves, and he is breathing slowly and deeply, controlled in a way that Elizabeth never felt she needed to be. Peter drifts his hand upwards, ghosting over the line of Neal's sternum, then flicks his fingers over Neal's nipple.

Neal broke off the kiss and Peter could feel Neal's breath quickening. "Oh, Peter," Neal says, pitching his voice mockingly high.

"What, you don't think I knew you liked that?"

"Didn't -- aaah-- realize it was in my file." Just as Neal takes in a shuddering inhale, Peter pinches his nipple, and he smirks when Neal groans, deep in his throat.

"Elizabeth loves it," Peter says, into the corner of Neal's mouth. "She loves it when I touch her. But she's pretty sensitive, so I don't get to do things like this." He twists, and Neal's hips buck beneath him.

"Oh fuck," Neal says. His eyes are squeezed closed, and his hands are fisted in the sheets.

"I don't actually know," Peter says, musing aloud. "I've never actually tried. But I guess we can do a test run here."

Peter leans back just enough to watch Neal's expression. His eyes are still closed, brows furrowed, and he looks just as he does when he's thinking through a problem. But this time, there are beads of sweat at his brow, something he'd never let happen in a setup, and he gasps and twists minutely as Peter tightens his grip on Neal's chest. It's a part of him that Peter has never seen, something so apart from the carefully cultivated self that Neal sold to the world. It's so completely Neal, but it's still not nearly enough.

After a few gasping breaths, Peter can see Neal collect himself. He opens his eyes and gives Peter a quick smile. "On a scale of one to seven, I'd give it a five. Minus points for lack of finesse." His voice wobbles on the last word.

"No finesse? Well, we certainly can't have that." Peter releases the nipple. He ducks his head and licks at the reddened flesh.

"Clearly -- oohhh," Neal breaks off mid sentence, when Peter blows out cool air. "Ohh." His head falls against the pillow. "Oh, fuck."

"Like that, huh?" Peter presses the length of his body against Neal's, and he can feel Neal's cock, hot through the thin fabric of his briefs.

Neal makes a low noise, a deep groan, and he says, voice rough, "If you stop, Pete, you will not like the consequences."

"Oh boy," Peter says, "I'd better not risk it. Liz would never forgive me if I had to chase you down again. All those late nights, those hours learning everything about you." He breathes his words over Neal's nipples, watching as Neal quivers and shakes beneath him. "The way you would always stay up late, how you're a traditional man at heart. How you sign work you're proud of, how you write the strokes of your name. If I close my eyes, I can see the letters, you know. They look just like this." Peter licks an N over Neal's nipple and listens as Neal pants. "That wasn't quite right. It didn't quite capture the confident strokes. Let's try that again. Let me know when you think I've got it. Don't want to bore you. I know how much you hate being bored." He blows again, watches goosebumps rise, then gets back down to licking, to sucking, to reducing Neal to nothing. He is already halfway there: Neal is rock hard beneath him, and he thrusts up into Peter's body. His hands are still clenched in the sheets, knuckles white.

"Stop moving," Peter snaps, "you're ruining my work."

Neal whimpers -- fucking _whimpers_ \-- and he stills. Peter feels it like a jolt straight to his cock, and suddenly his shirt and tie are too tight. He needs to feel Neal, skin against skin. So Peter sits up, leaning back onto Neal's legs, and Neal sobs as the cool air rushes onto his bare chest. Peter's hands are shaking as he loosens his tie, then unbuttons his shirt. He only has the patience for the first few before he just pulls the shirt over his head. The bed jostles and Neal is shuddering beneath him, making high noises on each exhale. At some point, he opened his eyes, and his eyes are a startling blue, completely wiped of anything but desire.

"Pete," Neal is saying, "Pete, Pete, Pete."

"Jesus," Peter says, "look at you."

Neal is still making noises, Pete's name on every exhale, and there is a wet spot growing on his briefs.

"Can you come?" Peter asks, softly. "Just from me touching you here?" He taps the reddened skin around Neal's nipple, and Neal jerks.

"Yes yes," Neal says, nodding his head. "Pete."

Peter rolls the other nipple between in index finger and thumb, and he can see the wetness on Neal's briefs grow. Neal strains against Peter's weight, tension strung throughout his body. His skin is hot beneath Peter's palms.

"I want you to come, just like this," Pete says. "I'm not going to touch your cock, not going to take off your briefs. I want you to come, just from when I touch you like this--" he twists Neal's left nipple and rides out the shudder in Neal's body. "I'm not going to do anything else. Did you know that Liz can't come just from this? She always needs just a little bit more? What about you? How would you like that? To know that you're doing something new for me?" He squeezes harder.

Neal's mouth is slack, saliva wetting the corners of his mouth, and he is blindly watching Peter. It's clear that Neal is thinking of no one but Peter, of what Peter is doing for him.

"Come on, Neal. I'm waiting for you."

Just like that, with Peter's hands on him, Neal's back arches into an impossible bow and he comes, shaking. Peter waits until just a moment before it looks like he's through, then releases his hold on Neal's body. The rush of blood forces another sound out of Neal's mouth, and he falls back to the bed, completely limp.

Peter breathes in through his nose and is suddenly aware of his own body. He is sweating, and his pants are sticking uncomfortably to his legs. He gingerly gets up off the limp wreck that is Neal Caffrey and peels himself out of his pants and his boxers. He's still hard, but he doesn't feel a particular sense of urgency. Here is the Neal Caffrey that he chased, three years to catch, and another three to expose. Neal has burrowed under his skin, and now, finally, Peter has gotten under his.

Neal opens his eyes, a glimpse of startling blue, and he says hazily, "Come here, Burke. I am nothing if not a gentleman."

And Peter smiles and drops into bed beside Neal. Neal turns into him, catches his lips and it feels more familiar than it has any right to. He brings hand down to one of Neal's oversensitive nipples and Neal jerks.

"You know," Neal says, voice sex rough, "Elizabeth mentioned that you're a little obsessive. I mean, I thought I knew what she meant, but really. I had no idea."


End file.
